One Star to the Next
by Daerunia
Summary: The tale of a boy lost to the annals of history during his days as a curious spirit nestled in a stifling village, told alongside the tale of another. The boy, with much ambition but no direction, meets a girl drowning in responsibility with no drive to do her duty as a daughter. Finally re-uploaded!
1. Bandits, Books, and Axes

**_One Star to the Next_**

**Chapter 1: Bandits, Books, and Axes**

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_Disclaimer: FE Echoes belongs to Nintendo and Intelligent Systems._

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_A hard hand clapped on his shoulder just as Kliff pocketed something away, and he didn't have to hear the fool open his mouth to know that it was Tobin. Of course it was. It was always Tobin. "Heya, buddy. I saw that sorrowful parting back there. Don't tell me you're embarking on a grand, exciting adventure and you plan on leaving a woman waiting for you to return home?! How the hell does a guy like you end up with a fairy tale ending like that and I-..."_

_"It's not like that, Tobin."_

_"...Oh. It isn't?"_

_"It's not." Simple, confident, collected._

_"You SWEAR?!" Tobin bounced in front of his friend, walking backwards as he scrunched his nose and scrutinized him. "Cross your heart? I always thought there was something going on between the two of you. There is, isn't there?"_

_"No," Kliff responded with a roll of his eyes. "And do you have any idea how awkward it makes it when people accuse you of that all the time? This is why I don't want to deal with you."_

_"We-eeelll, my good ol' buddy Kliff. There's nothing to feel awkward about if you two really didn't have anything going on. Hey, are you tuning me out again? Look, you've got to give me the details, man!"_

_"Gods, you moron... Can't you think about anything else?" Kliff pushed him aside playfully, and Tobin quickly fell back into place beside him, though his smile was waning._

_An audible choke shook Tobin's voice, and a dark mask of fear dropped over his features. "I didn't mean to bug you man, it's just that I needed to think about something else. Anything else. Kliff, we're really going to war, aren't we? I'm... I'm scared. I don't want to think about what we're walking into. I don't mean to pick on you, it's just-"_

_Pity touched Kliff's stony features as this time he gripped his friend's shoulder, shaking him out of his stupor. "Come on, don't get all spooked on me. If it shuts you up, I'll tell you on the way."_

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"Do you hear spirits speak to you? They say that's how dark mages are born." Kliff's eyes flitted up from the page of his tome, finally realizing that someone had been standing over him. He had stolen away from the other students that were still hanging about outside the school after class. They clustered in groups of friends and traveled back to Ram Village; that, or waited for their parents to ensure safe travels. Kliff, not wanting to even think about the nagging that would come along with being escorted by his mother or sister, always chose to go home alone. From time to time (and as fate would have it, this time), he stopped beneath the green shade along the river to lose himself in chapter after chapter of history tomes.

Kliff was certainly an odd one, and he was very conscious of it. The boy didn't need to overhear his mother's gossiping friends to know that the adults took pity on his thin frame and pale skin, often at odds with the dark skin, dark eyes, and dark hair of the other boys and girls who basked in the sun while they worked on their parents' fields and played in the river. They thought him sickly and in need of special attention, for fear that he might break. He found it curious that the adults talked about him like this, and yet their children took it upon themselves to make his life hell, as if they were _trying_ to break him.

Finally his eyes adjusted to the light blinding him from behind the girl that had spoken to him; no, perhaps the term "woman" was more accurate. She was older than he, but likely no older than his other friends. Thick in chest and hips, the browns and greens of the village women didn't seem to flatter her too much. Pale strawberry-blonde locks stuck to her face and cheeks from the heat and her nose was red, dappled with freckles from working in the sun. His eyes were drawn to the axe hanging at her hip before they returned back to her own hazel gaze.

"Can I help you with something?" He muttered, annoyed to have his solace intruded upon. Was she a sister of one of the bullies, here to harass him even moreso? The last thing he had any interest in was company, especially of the unpleasant sort.

"I already asked you a question, and it was far more conversational than yours, you know." She said with a sassy half smirk on her face, wiping her brow before apologizing. "I didn't mean to come across as rude, it's just... I study those old tomes all the time, know them cover to cover, and haven't heard a thing from the spirit world. The very last thing I expected was to see a boy your age clutching one of those, especially around here."

Kliff felt his annoyance fold to his own curiosity, closing the tome in his lap. To speak of dark magic in Ram Village was to pen your own writ of exclusion. For some reason the villagers believed that spells shamed the good name of the Earth Mother, though it was known all throughout the land that magic was a gift that many used to serve Mila. It was only here, in such closed-minded pockets of the world, that children who heard the voices of the spirits were frowned upon. It was for that reason that he stole away from the others as it was; even his own mother didn't like the idea of knowing her son was a potential magic conduit, despite her being the one who had found him such books in the first place.

To swing a sword was a gift, but to be blessed by the wisdom of the goddess herself was a curse. In many of Kliff's books, history and geography wove a different tale, but for now it was all he could do to simply try to blend in, outcast though he already was.

These thoughts alone, and the unpleasant reminder that came with them, made him wrinkle his nose in distaste. And as much as he would have enjoyed having someone to talk to, his guard was as high as could be.

"Why are you sweaty, and why do you have that?" He nodded at her axe warily, distrustful coral eyes peering from beneath his disheveled silvery locks.

She lifted her chin, wearing a wry smile. "I was running for exercise, and I happened to pick it up. And then I decided to make my way to the woods and bring home some firewood." She was lying, perhaps being sarcastic, but her voice made it difficult for him to be sure. Her accent was one that he couldn't place, but it certainly didn't belong to someone who grew up in a backwater village like Ram. "My turn. How did a boy such as yourself get ahold of those kinds of books in the first place? And what, pray tell, do you intend to do with what you learn?"

Kliff didn't know why, but he found himself telling her. "The thought of living my life out at this village just turns my stomach, but everyone keeps hammering the point home that I'm not as strong as my friends. I figured if I knew magic, then maybe I could do some traveling of my own." A scoff passed his lips, and he shook his head as he set his book aside. "Are you some kind of dark spirit here to tell me I have a gift or something? I've lived here my whole life and haven't ever seen you."

"You seem plenty strong to me," she stated, scrutinizing him in a way that made his face flush. It was just like an adult to pander niceties and pat him on the back as opposed to being honest. She avoided both of his questions, and he duly noted that.

The boy rolled his eyes, feeling the familiar thread of annoyance tugging at him. "Oh, come on…"

"I mean it! You don't look any different than any other boy running around Ram, though maybe a bit on the short side. Why don't you give my axe a swing and see how you fare, huh?" She held it out in front of him hilt first, giving him a smile that was almost apologetic.

"Seriously? That thing would break my arms off..." His brow furrowed as he closed his eyes and unleashed a sigh, a trademark Kliff expression. "Besides, lady, I'm trying to read. Would it kill you to lay off?" Despite his complaining, he was on his feet and brushing his clothing clean, as if his body knew that he wanted to try a swing before his mind agreed.

She placed one hand on her hip and held the weapon out to him with the other still, wearing a worried smile on her lips. "…I didn't mean to tease you into trying, I admittedly noticed the cover of your book and was overcome with nosiness. In all honesty, it's dangerous around here. Nobody should tarry too long."

Kliff gave his exasperated look again, not even aware that he did so. "No, don't go yet, I want to give it a whack for the hell of it. Besides, I come here all the time by myself, it's not an issue. Nothing to be scared of as far as I know, and I'm still alive." Nose wrinkled in uncertainty, he held the weapon in both hands as Mycen had taught him to do with a sword, but it merely felt lopsided and uncomfortable. How did she grip it with just one hand so easily? He wound it up over his shoulder like a bat and gave a half swing, trying to stop just in front of him and fumbling from the weight.

Letting out a cry of surprise, the woman leaned away with both arms raised in a mercy gesture. "Before you swing that with no warning, you should know that the woman you might kill is named Rune."

Embarrassed at his blunder Kliff stepped back, though her name brought a smile to his face. "All that talk about dark spirits and your name happens to be Rune? Well, isn't that magical." The axe nestled in the crook of his shoulder as he shook his head. "I'm Kliff, by the way." A breeze picked up the fine hair at the nape of his neck, bringing with it the smell of flowers. Spring meant pollen and pollen meant his mother forcing him to stay tucked in bed away from the world.

"It's a nickname, but you have an excellent point, Kliff." At the call of a crow, she cast her hazel gaze to the sky, a worried look crossing her features. "I guess it's getting a little late, isn't it?"

"Scared of the dark?" He twisted his body and swung at an adjacent tree, feeling his hands ache as the edge split the bark and little else. His hands released the handle almost in an instant, his palms stinging as the heavy tool dropped to his feet, far too close to his toes for his liking. He expected her to laugh at him and flinched, but she did no such thing. Instead, her eyes were locked onto the darkening grove of trees just across the river. He tilted his head, unable to spot anything even with his perfect vision. "Lady?"

"Now of all times they decide to show up. Give me that axe back." Her tone was vastly different, sharp though it was barely above a whisper. She held her hand out expectantly, and he didn't question her. With effort, he picked it back up and passed it to her, feeling a twinge of heat in his face as she easily held it in one hand. He wasn't frightened, not even by her behavior, until the stomping and breaking of twigs broke over the rumble of the lazy river. Two hunkering men emerged from their cover, both holding tight to gleaming daggers. They were laden with sacks both empty and full, food smeared on their faces as their voices gurgled with drink.

"Good eye, my man," the thinner of the two remarked, a gross grin smacked onto his ugly features as his drunken eyes gleamed with familiarity at the woman beside him. Kliff wasn't a self proclaimed genius, but it suddenly became very clear that Rune hadn't been just running to run, nor had she just picked up the axe for the hell of it. She was being pursued.

"Told you I spotted the wench heading out on her own, yeah? Giiiirrrlliiiieeee, giiiiirrrlliiieee! You got some sweet treats for a coupla' lost travelers?!" Drunk as they were, they weren't too incapacitated to be wanting for trouble and began to cross the stream, not a stumble to their step.

"Don't be frightened Kliff," She muttered softly, raising her free arm in front of him. "Don't speak, and don't run. I've been waiting on these two for a few days now, but luring them away from the village after their drinking binge seemed to be the best course of action."

"Afraid? I've dealt with bandits before. Did you really have to play nice if you were just going to get a stranger involved in trouble..." His voice didn't waver and though it wasn't a lie, it was many years ago now that he had stood with his friends and fought off a few rogue knights of Desaix. But back then, Mycen had been there, as well as Alm... fear did grip at his heart, but it wasn't difficult to remain stoic and stand upright.

"I sincerely didn't mean to," she admitted, brow knitting in worry though her gaze remained locked on the other two.

"Ain't yer momma taught you to listen when yer spoken to, ya witch?" The more heavyset of the two was a fair few paces away now, keeping his distance as the other paced to block any escape route.

Kliff watched, large coral orbs widening in curiosity, as she brandished her axe and let it fall into the crook of her shoulder, feet planted shoulder width apart. She certainly looked the part of a warrior, at least. A smile touched her lips as she cocked an eyebrow at the duo, her voice suddenly not sounding the least bit on edge as she called over to the two plodding fools.

"My father taught me to never talk to strangers, especially those who steal from houses and stores in the dead of night like cowards."

_'Not smart...'_ Kliff felt sweat break out across his forehead at this bold statement in the face of danger, especially as both men moved closer with their weapons gripped tight at their sides.

"Oh, where's ya daddy now, huh? What business have you and this little one got out here all alone, aye?" The one closest to Kliff pointed his dagger and Kliff opened his mouth to respond, but Rune stepped in front of him in an instant, almost completely obscuring his view with her height. Her free hand was outstretched, and Kliff unleashed his trademark sigh in silent, shaky relief, moving closer to the safety of the near-stranger's back.

"Not a good idea there. He's a dark mage you know. If he were to get upset, then it's likely we would all end up dead." Her voice had dropped to a deathly growl, one that seemed to convince the bandits as they murmured curses in hushed tones and took a step back. "Surely even lowborn fools like yourselves know to fear being burned alive or electrocuted into oblivion."

Kliff didn't expect it to be convincing at all, but both bandits stood upright, appraising the both of them with squinted, ugly eyes. "Ain't nobody except Duma faithful got that kinda magic around here, ya know. Maybe we'd best just let it be and come back. 'Sides, Mycen's around still, and they say his grankid-..."

"Shut yer hole! If we haven't gotten all there is to be got, yer mum's a fool!" They were talking amongst themselves, clueless idiots who hadn't realized her bluff. If they weren't drunk enough, if they weren't stupid enough, if they had enough time to realize... the entire situation would likely end in bloodshed.

_'Gods, it's working! Hurry up and finish it, please...'_ Kliff mentally begged, certain that just holding their ground would be enough, when suddenly Rune was charging forward and swinging her axe with both hands at the more narrow of the two bandits. Perhaps caught up in the illusion that the pale skinned little boy was going to spontaneously explode and murder them with his dark arts, they both unleashed screams and backed away, their stupor finally catching up to them.

"This village is right done as it is, let's just be out!" The larger man was stumbling over himself in his attempt to escape, completely fine with leaving his partner behind. The narrower, who had just barely stepped backwards enough to avoid having his throat slit open, fell into the babbling brook behind him and unleashed a scream that resonated through the trees. He panicked, scrambled, and then was after his partner before Kliff had a chance to do anything besides stand and stare.

And then it was over. Still at a loss for words and with his knees trembling with fear, Kliff looked to where the brigands had been and then turned his quizzical gaze towards Rune, who had rested her axe back against the tree where they had first met only... could it have really been minutes ago? To keep his hands from shaking he balled them into fists, locked firmly at his sides as he felt his skin crawl at the realization that cold sweat had been running down his back.

"What if that hadn't worked, Rune? Or what if you hadn't missed and had hit that guy?!" He finally broke his silence, frustrated at the feeling that he had been a bit used.

"Then we would be injured, or he would be dead." She dusted her hands clean, tilting her head at his angry expression. "You were quite brave."

"I didn't do _anything_!" He gave pause, taking a moment to catch his breath. Allowing his reeling thoughts to calm, he let out a sigh and squatted down beneath the treescape, elbows on his knees. "...I'm sorry. Thank you, I don't know what I would have done had I been cornered alone. …Are you a mercenary?"

Her chuckle was sinister and sarcastic. "Do I look like a mercenary?" Her voice told him that he was a fool for asking, but his answer was a silent yes. "You wouldn't have been cornered alone, considering they were after me. They wouldn't have come this way if not for my leading them somewhere away from the villagers." She tucked an unruly lock of hair away from her forehead, looking up at the sky once again. "But you're welcome. Will you be safe making it home? Gather your things and be out of here before they get the wise idea to come back."

"Of course I'll be fine, I come this way every day." He turned and began to gather his books in his arms, dropping one in the process and quickly snatching it back up. "How about you? Do you truly live in Ram Village and expect me to believe I've never seen you before?" He turned back around to face her, only to see that she had completely vanished. He looked around, even glancing above and hoping to spot a sign of trampled grass or wet leaves from her crossing the river, to no avail. "Lady? ...I mean, Rune?"

His reply was the idle silence of the wood, whispering through the trees and stirring his unruly locks. As suddenly as she had appeared, she had vanished in turn, leaving nothing to show that she had ever existed besides her axe, resting against the tree under which they had met.

A chill ran up his spine as his eyes darted around the trees, looking for any sign of her. Had it not been for the axe that was lying so close to him, the entire encounter could have been a dream. Or perhaps, a brush with the shoulder of the spirit world.

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**_Author's Note: _**_Updated on 06/30/2019_


	2. Small Talk and Scars

**_One Star to the Next_**

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**Disclaimer: **_Fire Emblem belongs to Nintendo_

**Updated: 01/17/2020. Happy birthday to my best friend in the entire world! I don't know why I'm even saying that when it's not like she reads this, but eeeee I'm excited to spoil her today. Yaay! This chapter changed A LOT. Like, A LOT. I think I'm much happier with it now than I was before. I want to spend more time developing interactions between characters. Let me know what you think, and if you are an old reader and remember how it used to be, let me know how it compares! Don't worry, the ocarina bit will come back, but not in this chapter. **

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**_Small Talk and Scars_**

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Weeks, days, months, and then seasons had gone by, each one bringing him closer to finishing his horrendous schooling and bringing him further and further from the day he had met the woman in the woods. For a while he was troubled, certain that her vanishing act meant that the entire encounter had been a simple, fleeting dream. Perhaps the spirits were truly trying to speak with him, as she had suggested? The memory was becoming thin, fading and becoming more and more ethereal with each day. A part of him still wanted to walk past the same spot in the forest after each day of class with the slightest fancy of a hope that it truly was a messenger of the spirit world, here to usher him into a grander design.

Or perhaps it was the wishful thinking of a boy with wanderlust, but naivety kept him from coming to terms with that notion.

Her axe laid beneath the same tree that they had met under, enduring a full year, then spring and summer and the start of autumn, as tangible as the shoes on his feet or the hair on his head. When he described her to Alm, he simply nodded and told Kliff that a pinkish-haired girl helped Mycen from time to time with woolgathering and hunting game. How mundane. She was a real person. Ugh.

With each passing season he found himself forgetting the encounter more and more, a side effect of time that gives no cares to what humans want to remember. His schooling was cut short from war and his days were spend within the village, sprinting away from responsibility and his overbearing family whenever he had the chance. Ram Village was synonymous with stifling, crippling claustrophobia for someone like him, someone who watched the daily lives of the villagers and felt ill at their gross cycles of simplicity.

It was not anyone's fault that they lived the way they lived, but that did not mean that it was the sort of life that he was meant for. Kliff half wondered how many of the village elders once had the same feelings he did, but chose to remain in the coffin of the lives they were dealt. He often had the intent to ask, to hear their stories, but at the same time, the very thought of having his ambition stamped out made him horribly depressed. Best to keep to himself.

Over three seasons he matured, still longing for an escape but beginning to fear more and more that he was meant to lead the life of a stationary farmer, back crooked from bending over fields. Settling with the knowledge that he had and never gaining more.

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"Isn't it a little cold for a hike? I mean, come on! You take that hike on your own, buddy!"

Much to Kliff's disdain, he was accompanied by his friend Tobin, a dense, albeit kind-hearted guy who had a way of drawing the wrong kind of attention with his big mouth. It was rather easy to ignore a guy like that for Kliff, especially considering that all of Tobin's thoughts were occupied by girls and gold. It was all the brunet seemed to be capable of thinking of, and his easy talk made it all the easier for him to be tuned out. Not that Tobin was lecherous or greedy, no, he was more like...

A loser?

Kliff stopped in his tracks beside the same tree along the same river, hearing a high, heady tone hitting his ears. It was a melody, a somber one that caused his head to tilt; its familiarity uncanny.

"I'm not hiking, and nobody asked you to join me. You invited yourself, Tobin." Not bothering to spare the older boy even a glance to satisfy his offended expression, Kliff folded his arms over the heavy book that was clutched to his chest. "As a matter of fact, reading is generally better in quiet company, you know."

"Reading? Not my thing. I was pretty sure I overhead Faye mentioning that a bunch of the graduating girls were working in Mycen's field this afternoon to help turn the soil for the new year. It made sense to me that you were heading the same way I was!" Tobin dropped a hand on Kliff's messy head, harshly ruffling his hair and earning a half growl, half groan.

"Really? _That_ made sense to you? That I was going to help other people do yardwork? I've just barely finished everything that needed to be done at my house." He smacked Tobin's hand away, eliciting a cheeky chuckle from his aggravating friend.

"Seriously? Don't tell me that the idea of gettin' on the good side of a herd of girls doesn't fill you with new energy."

"Not in the slightest."

"Well, fine! Why don't you just lurk around the woods and read your silly book! You can consider yourself friendless as of right… now!" Tobin teased, turning on his heel back towards the village. He paused to see if Kliff would beg for him to stay, only to get a mumbled, sassy retort.

"You'd be doing me a favor." No punches pulled, the blond watched in disinterest as Tobin's face pulled to object, softened into hurt, and then turned to a bratty, playful grimace as he marched back towards the main path with renewed vigor. With that nuisance gone, he moved towards the tree where a rusted axe had recently rested, spotting the flap of a bag from around its trunk. Ah, the culprit of the music.

Inching closer, he peered around the bark, sneaking up upon his prey with catlike silence. He hesitated for just a second upon the realization that he was spying. Regardless, Kliff recognized the woman instantly, though now she wore her hair piled high, argumentative curls of the palest coral escaping to fall across her features. The difference, he realized with a sinking feeling in his gut, was a wiggling, white scar stretching from her right temple to the profile of her ear. Kliff was taken aback by it, if only for a moment.

"What's the noise about?" He finally found it within himself to speak up, startling her into a sudden squeak of her small instrument.

Their gazes locked and Kliff realized, not without experiencing a sensation of heavy irony, that she didn't recognize him. She only pulled the small glass flute back from her lips and stared. And then slowly her hazel eyes lit with realization and she rose to her feet, brushing leaves of her legs. His eyes caught sight of the rusty axe from before laying in the underbrush on top of an expensive looking leather bag that must have been hers as well.

" My, you've gotten so tall that I didn't..." she trailed off with her right hand floating at her forehead's height, following with a sheepish laugh. "My friend of the forest and all things forbidden has come back, this time with a growth spurt. You look like you're doing well!"

His bright eyes slipped over her form, taking a mental note of the two heavy looking rings on her left hand; one on the ring finger, and one on her thumb. Golden earrings gleamed in her ears, clashing with the crumpled, white button up shirt and dirty boots that she wore. Perhaps they had been there long ago and he had never noticed; Kliff always had a habit of staring at his feet as a boy. "Guess you're saying I was shrimpy before, huh?" He smirked, placing a hand on his hip as he nodded towards her hands. "You can fight and you can play music. Your husband must not be left with anything but housework."

Her amicable smile turned to a stern frown as she wrinkled her nose.

"Er, sorry, I didn't mean to assume anything," he backpedaled quickly, red in the face.

"Were you scouting?" She scolded.

"What? No! ...I don't even know what that means, but if it means what I think it means, then no!"

Rune seemed to deliberate for a good, long while before she said anything. "I have no husband. I've just recently fought my way back home from a rather unseemly engagement as it is."

Unable to keep his nose in his own business, Kliff asked "what does that mean?"

"Forgive me, but I don't know you well enough to be telling you such things. I will just say that my step-mother thought it would be faster to sell my hand in marriage than spend a day of her life working hard."

"So that's why I didn't see you around again. Did you run away? How far did you go? Towards the mountains, or eastward?"

"You are awfully nosy, aren't you?" She stared at him, delivering a wide-eyed look so bold that he found himself glancing at his feet again. His face burned in embarrassment and self-disappointment at the realization that he had broken eye contact. A notion of weakness.

A brief second of silence passed over them. Perhaps realizing that she may have come off rude in response to his curiosity, Rune sat back down gracelessly and began to fiddle in the bag for something. What she pulled out was a folded map, dog-eared and marked with smudges of ink from use. "Well, while I was traveling, I was disoriented for a while, but I know that I definitely passed through the capital of Zofia on my way back. There are huge manmade forts built up in the forests there, many of them unoccupied."

Against his reserved nature, Kliff chose to squat down next to her, pointing at the messy scrawl at the bottom of the parchment. "Huh. This map is actually pretty inaccurate. Look at the date on it. This cartographer drew this almost sixty years ago. The area you're talking about probably used to be a stronghold in the Navarra Forests; they were built in such a way that they were supposed to blend into nature. It made them tricky to navigate and even trickier to build and send supplies to."

"Is that so? That might explain why I ended up in an unfamiliar village on the way back. See this one here?" She pointed at a small hamlet just north of Ram on the map. "I met a funny little family of mages there. It may sound a bit silly, having only met you once, but there was a boy there who reminded me of you. Withdrawn and serious and most definitely too nosy for his own good. I wonder if there is a Kliff in every village on Zofian soil!" Her laugh was melodious and lighthearted. "Everyone there was rather kind, but this boy kept grilling me on why I was there and even went through my bag. Once he determined I wasn't a threat, I couldn't get him to stop talking about magic."

Kliff frowned. "Hey, you're the one that approached me before, you know. I wasn't being nosy. Besides, there is only one of me."

"What drove you to come over here and speak to me?" Rune asked suddenly. Kliff was caught off guard by the shift in the tone of her voice. It was almost as if the question were suddenly an accusation.

"What do you mean? I just remembered you, so I wondered if you remembered me. I…" he scratched his head, tousling his messy curls. "I guess… some small part of me thought maybe you were a spirit the first time we met." He began talking faster to explain himself as she cocked her head in confusion. "In the books I've read, people with inherent magic blessings often have strange things happen to them. Sometimes things move around, or their wounds heal faster than normal. It's been documented by most people that have used magic that a spirit from the other side has appeared before them, and that encounter was what woke up their abilities. Since I never saw you again, I thought…" he trailed off, horrified at his own words.

"You thought I might have been your spirit emissary here to grant you gifts of power?"

"Well, it just sounds dumb now that I'm saying it out loud… but yeah. Maybe so."

"What would a village boy want with magic?"

His brow jumped in annoyance. "Ugh, don't call me that. Just because I'm born in some backwater village doesn't mean that I can't have ambition of my own! I want to get out and see the world with my own eyes. I train here and there and travel a few miles away from home at a time, but never for long."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offend." Despite her apology she had to bite at her cheek to keep from smiling. Ambitious he certainly was. Nosy, too, despite his protests. As prickly as he was, it was actually quite endearing.

He gave a sigh, shaking his head. "You didn't. But you've traveled, right? I know for a fact that you aren't from Ram. I would have seen you. You-…" he stopped himself from saying that she stood out for fear that it might just come across a touch insensitive, but it seemed she picked up on precisely what he meant.

"I am aware that I don't look or dress like a village maiden, though I can promise my hands are just as calloused from work. You are correct, though. I have come a long way to get where I am now."

"Why anyone would willingly come to Ram is beyond me."

"I can't say that it is the life I envisioned for myself, but I think I'm-…" the word 'happy' faded on her lips, and she swiftly replaced it with a more accurate one. "I'm content. Though I've been here for a few years now, I'm always too busy to get to know anyone. The girls my age glare at me hatefully every time that I deliver game to the butcher or herbs to the apothecary. Though I suppose the elderly here are quite fond of me…"

"My friends and I have lived here my whole life. We have seen some nasty people come and go, some posing as settlers who are thieves, and others who are Zofian knights with the intent to rob us. If you aren't being wary, then you're being naïve. That's the way of the world." Kliff stated matter-of-factly.

"Understandable, given the state of the world." She nodded.

"Right. You can't trust anyone." He also bobbed his head in agreement.

She couldn't help but tease him. "And yet you walked right up to me, didn't you?"

Kliff fumbled over his words as he swiftly tried to form a comeback, but Rune only offered her good-natured laugh. He let out a sigh and tugged at a lock of his hair.

"Smart-ass." He huffed; a light-hearted response, though he was much more irritated than he gave off. "You're implying that I would be in danger or something. It's not like you have any idea how strong I am."

"So are you implying that I am in danger?" Rune responded, though that shift to her tone had returned. She seemed to be kidding, but there was an edge to it that felt as if she were warning him.

Kliff found himself taken aback, nervously recounting his words. Did she think he was threatening her? She was the one with a weapon! Or was she warning him that HE should feel threatened? Conundrums like these were why he often didn't speak at all; sometimes his sassy mouth got him into more trouble. "No," he responded simply as he stood up and dusted off his clothing. "I suppose I'm not much of a threat to anyone when there isn't a written exam involved. I train from time to time with Mycen and spar with a couple of my friends, but I'm not great compared to them."

"You aren't? I think you have a lot of potential. Theory goes a long way in practice, and I bet you know more about using a weapon than any of your friends do. That is just my guess, though."

"It's not like they taught us how to swing a sword in school. The only theory I learn is during practice."

"Perhaps you could teach me. I'm no good with a sword. And I could teach you how to use an axe. Then you could really take your friends by surprise!"

"Heh. If I were any good with an axe, they'd just ask me to chop firewood for them."

"You could become a legendary woodsman!"

"My name will go down in the annals of history. And..." his words fell short as he caught sight of the scar on her cheek again. He had honestly forgotten it was there. He glanced away quickly, but she had clearly caught his stare. She made a simple motion of brushing her fingers through the curls that framed her face, and as natural a motion that it seemed, it effectively hid the white mark that trailed parallel to her jawline. "I, uh, hey, Just tell me to shut up if I'm being rude, but that scar. It wasn't there before, was it?"

"You're right. It wasn't there before." She began to neatly fold up the map and started to tuck it into her bag. "It's okay that you asked, but it's late. I should head home."

"Ah, geez, damn it. I'm sorry, that was stupid of me." He facepalmed, shaking his head.

She laughed as she rose to her feet and pulled her bag over her shoulder. It seemed the storm cloud over her had passed. "No, no need to apologize. It's fine, really! I don't mind telling you about it, but, perhaps next time we meet."

He looked puzzled. "When next we meet?"

"We're friends, right? Is there a problem with seeing you tomorrow?"

"N-no, I didn't say that. And who decided we were friends?" He backpedaled, finding that his mouth was only going to lead to him being severely disliked. "Wait, what I meant was, uh, not that it's a problem-… I've had the same friends since before I started school, I don't exactly know how to… ugh."

Rune's eyes gleamed brightly, even more tickled at his stammering. "There isn't a protocol, Kliff. Or would you rather sign a friendship contract with your blood?"

"That sure sounds like something a dark spirit would say…" he chided, offering a smirk. "I'm still not convinced that you aren't a specter here to grant me insight into the dark arts."

Another easy laugh. "If I had otherwordly wisdom at my disposal, I would have done a great many things in my life differently last year. But encountering you that first time? That would remain the same, I'd like to think. You're the first person I've felt any kind of kinship with since I've lived here."

He rolled his eyes, feeling color rise to his face. How odd to hear the word kinship spoken as a noun, an actual thing. It seemed that friends just happened, people that others were forced to interact with either clashed or fell into an contented place wordlessly. To consider a friend 'found,' or 'made...'

What a concept.

* * *

_"This isn't as sexy as I hoped it would be."_

_Kliff pinched the bridge of his nose, attempting to stop a Tobin-migraine that was already in the works. "I never said it would be anything like that. Look, you're the one going out of your way to nag me. I'm just answering your questions, and that's that. You're eating it up like a bedtime story."_

_"Hearing you go on and on is actually a pretty great distraction, you know." Tobin propped his head up on an elbow, feeling his stomach howl with hunger. "Man, it's been days since we've had provisions... don't say 'eating' in front of me."_

_"If you sleep, you won't feel hungry." Aching, his thin blade wounds still gently pressing drops of crimson into his muddy shirt, Kliff nestled into his sleeping bag with his gaze turned towards the expanse of stars, feeling the same tune that Rune had been playing itching at the back of his mind._

_A few feet away, Tobin's voice, harrowed and honest, quietly rose back up. "Heya, Kliff? Do you think... if Clive decided that there were just too many of us to feed and had to sever the weakest link, who do you think that would be...?"_

_"Come on..." he groaned, once again feeling pity for his closest friend's self-inflicted feelings of inferiority. His sudden shift in tone felt so familiar that his heart ached as his cuts and scrapes did, but it carved a much deeper wound. "Alm wouldn't let that happen."_

_"Would he, though...?"_

_"He wouldn't."_

_A pause; Kliff had thought Tobin had finally fallen into sleep, but his voice stirred one final time. "People say dumb fluffy things like 'it takes every star to light up the night sky,' but some stars are brighter than the next. Hell, one Sun makes an entire day, you know?" Tobin hadn't realized that his words sounded nearly profound. "If Alm's the Sun, I'm just... ugh. Does it really matter that I'm here? You know what I'm talking about?"_

_Hand over his chest, unconsciously feeling his own heartbeat as his eyes closed to the brightness of the stars, Kliff could only sigh in response. "I do, Tobe."_


	3. Self-Preservation and the Greater Good

**_One Star to the Next_**

* * *

**_Disclaimer_**_: Fire Emblem Echoes belongs to Nintendo._

**_A/N: Phew, this one changed a ton. Aaaand for all of those wondering, I'm working on the second chapter of my Awakening fic. Really. I am. Promise. I swear. And the chapter will have a moment with dear, sweet, creepy Tharja because before I took that story down, someone requested a little bit of Tharja. What better way to integrate Morgan into Chrom's squad than an interrogation from Tharja and Frederick? Once you pass that, you're basically squad for life. Anyways, enjoy! _**

* * *

**_Ch. 3_**

**_Self-Preservation and the Greater Good_**

* * *

Gripping tightly to the handle of her axe, Rune pressed her wounded back against a ruined wall, a remnant of what might have been a house and was now merely a scorched, roofless slab. Shelter it was not, but it provided plenty of cover enough for her to gulp air into her lungs, feeling agony prick at her rib cage with every inhale. Her ears were so strained for the sound of footfalls that they seemed to pulse with their own individual ache, her teeth tight in a grimace of pain and stained pink with blood that she had been spitting up since the first armored blow to her side.

A deep male voice echoed from somewhere nearby, close enough that she knew she couldn't stay where she was. "Woman, I ask that you come out and hasten your end. For your own sake."

Her fingers tightened around her stolen axe with a fear-guided grip that turned her knuckles white. Rune closed her eyes to her pain for a split second, cursing her step-mother's name. Such a naive woman she was, drunk on the idea that she could have her life of luxury restored by selling her own step-daughter.

In Maria's foolishness, she had offered Rune's hand to a noble that she had been exchanging letters with. Rune had thought little of the fact that Maria had a pen pal of sorts, but she certainly hadn't expected it had anything to do with herself. Only two—or was it three—days prior, she had been sitting at her own kitchen table nursing a cup of soup and studying a book of field plants. There was a knock at the door, and Rune could just scarcely recall starting to rise to her feet to get it. Something—someone—had knocked her out from behind with something heavy.

When she came to, she found herself bound in a strange shrine. She had heard incantations, curses, screams. Maria likely sat now in Ram Village, wondering when her reward would arrive, while her vigilante child found herself trapped in a den of humans that were more like monsters. She remained clueless as Rune fought for her every breath and prayed that it wouldn't be her last.

The place has a disorienting cloud about it, perhaps from burning incense or herbs to keep the senses dulled. Shadows moved about, men in robes spoke, women with glowing eyes ran their hands all over herself and the other captives as if they were looking for something. She had managed to escape the ropes that bound her and tried to flee. Her execution had been left to a scarcely human man with the eyes of a corpse long turned to rot, an armor-clad creature that was called Gaunt by one of the robes figures that was still capable of human speech.

Rune had managed to find a rusted axe during her panicked escape of the shrine, but a mere sideswipe from the haunting baron had left her as debilitated as she was, scarcely able to do anything besides panic and flee. The rage that burned within her fizzled out into embers and instead of fighting, all she could do was attempt escape. Rune had known fear; rational fright, irrational phobias, but it paled in comparison to the raw, unbridled fear that the first hit had elicited from her broken body.

Should she survive, she knew that fear would stay with her forever.

He was growing near now, a hungering threat, eager to please his master. "You should not have run in the first place. Perhaps you've learned your mistake?"

Hazel orbs widened in the realization that her dulled senses masked the sound of Gaunt's approaching footsteps, leaving her an open target with her noisy attempts to grasp at oxygen as if through a straw. Gritting through a cry of pain she threw herself to the right and rolled as a spear split the earth where she had just been, lighting the dark with sparks. Her wounds screamed in protest to the hard ground, but there was nothing to be done but attempt to scramble to her feet and run, pumping more and more blood through her aching heart.

Branches whipped at her face and brambles closed around her bare ankles as she sprinted so fast that it felt as if her very tendons would snap in protest, and the heavy footfalls of the soldier were quick closing in despite his massive form. Rune could sense his closeness; she could nearly visualize the black armor and raised javelin in her wake, poised to strike as her chest tightened, burned, shattered, threatened to close and leave her crumpled on the Rigelian soil in pieces.

_'It's over, it's over, it's-..,' _she felt her mind give way to her will to survive, abandoning the notion of ever being able to merely escape with what injuries she did have. No, she would have to fight like a cornered animal, unburdened by tactic or the fear of death which drove her feet now. To run was to be caught and die, to fight was to be broken and die. At least one held a glimmer of hope, and it was this that caused her to pivot her weight and turn heel, swinging the heavy, rusted axe with such enthusiasm that she could feel no less than two more ribs twist in protest. Eyes closed, hoping to hit home, she unleashed a scream that could have risen the dead, shared between pain and the anticipation that she might-

No, not might. That she was _going to die._

Her swing hit home, momentum carrying the dull blade into the crease of her pursuer's neck with sickening _thunk_ of metal against bone. Force carried her still, cracking the arm on the outside of the swing's arc as velocity came to a sudden and solid halt.

The edge of his javelin had been falling in a strong downward swipe that would have hit her spine had she not turned around and attacked him. It instead sliced her face wide almost painlessly at the well-groomed edge. She noticed not. It wasn't until a watery groan gurgled past Gaunt's lips and his armored form fell onto her that she realized that she was even still alive and able to feel pain.

_'We're both dead,' _she felt her mind's eye confirm to her, numb to the despairing weight of a full suit of armor crushing her legs. A river of blood flowed freely from the throat of her now deceased enemy, dying the remains of her clothing an ominous purple. _'No, he's dead. I'm... I'm alive.' _She mopped blood from her right eye with a soggy sleeve, blinking in the abysmal darkness.

"I'm alive…?"

It was a Pyrrhic victory. Despite her pain, a cynical smile tugged at her bloody mouth, followed by a breathless spurt of relieved laughter that broke into choked, flooded sobs of racking panic and relief.

"I'm alive." Rune spoke this aloud again. Through her faded haze of consciousness it seemed so absolutely hilarious that she laughed heartily again, feeling blood rise in her throat and threaten the back of her tongue. Inch by aching inch, she pulled herself from underneath Gaunt, blood and mud stinging her wounds. The first rumblings of thunder and offerings of rain urged her on, lest she drown on her back like a turkey. Tears made clear tracks through her bloodied face, leaking from her eyes from the sheer adrenaline.

Rune managed to raise the arm that she had felt snap, slowly attempting to fold it into a fist to no avail. _'Your axe swinging days are over, my girl,'_ she thought, feeling such sudden regret that it was like a new, white hot bolt of pain directly into her chest. Part of her, a foolish, tired part, wanted to lie back down in the soil, perhaps plant herself there and hope for the best, but the thought of Gaunt- no, the body, she had to tell herself, he was no longer a person, if he even was to be considered one in the first place- resting so close gave her the push she needed to begin her slow journey back home.

Four broken ribs, a punctured lung, countless wounds that for months had teetered on the brink of infection, and eternally damned ligaments in both arms that had not long ago been the pride of her swinging arc were little price to pay in the eyes of Maria. And to what end? For the child she had planned to be rid of to come home with her face forever scarred? An ungrateful child, she had called Rune.

That had wounded her perhaps more than any of her injuries ever could have, to see the look on her step-mother's face when she woke to find her own child unconscious on her doorstep. It hurt because it hadn't been concern nor fear, but disappointment reflected in those features so different from her own. She could have told her what happened, could have blamed her, hated her, threatened her, but even after all that time she could only lower her head in shame.

Nightmares had haunted her, sneaking into her waking world with a sly creepiness that gripped her with fear even should she be basking in sunlight in a field of flowers. That chanting, that man-... his blood, spilling in such a fine river that it seemed to be a theatre prop. Time paled their damage but didn't stop them, likely wouldn't ever stop them, so long as she still bore the burden of taking a life.

* * *

"So that's where it came from, huh?" Kliff folded one knee over the other and stretched his arms behind his head, nearly tipping the old chair over. It was a grim story to hear told against the backdrop of his own cozy kitchen. "I don't know what's harder to believe. Your story, or the fact that you even bothered to tell me. You expect me to believe that you went through all that?"

"I foolishly find it easy to trust you. Besides, I've got the scar and the ring to prove it, haven't I?" Her long fingers fiddled with a ring studded with small diamonds around a Rigelian crest.

Kliff eyed it with disgust. "Why would you even keep that thing?"

"I might as well have something to show for my troubles, right? A reminder of the time that I was sold to the Duma Faithful by a stupid, stupid woman who thought that it would make her rich."

_'Perhaps if you hadn't come running back, I could have moved back to the capital and secured a home for us. Do you think of anyone other than yourself?' _Maria had commented time and time again. Rune wasn't sure if she was too dense to realize that she was going to be killed, or if Maria was perhaps being sarcastic and mocking her survival by saying _us_. Of course, it had been much easier to follow her about chiding her she first came back, but now that Rune had recovered and made a friend in this sassy, silvery-haired village boy, Maria had a hard time catching her to stir up her guilt. She would rise at the crack of dawn with an armful of books and go hunting, or fishing, or whatever else it was that she did to get out of the house. All Maria knew was that she only came home to sleep, eat, and shower, and then would be off out her own window to avoid passing her in the den.

Of course, despite the weeks that had passed and the long nights that had been spent poring over books with Kliff, she had still withheld so much. It seemed that the blanks that she drew in her recounting of the event didn't make it past him.

"There are still plenty of questions that need answering. First of all, it's unheard of for people from Ram Village to have those kind of connections. And why you, and not some other villager? You're not…" He bit at his cheek, folding his arms across his narrow chest. Now that he really thought about what he was going to say, it sounded extremely rude. "Uh…"

She gave him a wry smile, reading him quite quickly. "I'm not prettier than any other girl in the village, so why would I be sold? Is that what you were going to ask?"

His sigh was one of defeat. "I don't mean it in those exact words. What I mean is that people who are sold to marry nobles as concubines are usually- …Well, they don't look like they've ever done work. They're princesses or nobles of lesser houses, but nobles all the same. With weird eye colors, or magic affinities, or dragon's blood or something."

"I suppose I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Perhaps it was a roulette draw for someone in this village to meet an end like that, and I pulled the wrong card," she lied, feeling the burden of guilt begin to settle in her breast.

"Or." He sat upright, folding his hands under his chin. "Maybe the influence of the Duma Faithful is spreading further and faster than anyone could have thought. Or it could be that it's a small group working independently, interrupting the underground selling of concubines to gather women to turn to witches. And you just happened to be a noble who got caught up in that, aren't you?"

Her face vanished behind her cup of tea for a moment as she took a long sip.

He folded his arms, sounded pleased with himself. "So you are a noble, then! I should have known right from the start. Your accent, the way you carry yourself… it's totally different than anyone else from around here."

"I never wanted that lifestyle, and I'm content to try and remain at this one. Please don't say anything that could ostracize me further. You are the first person in this village that-…"

He held up his hands and shook his head, silencing her. "Hold on, it's not like I'm going to tell anyone. But what do you think would happen? You think the townsfolk would run you away with torches and pitchforks?"

"...They would look at me with apprehension. I would rather them openly despise me than stare at me with... I'm not quite sure. With judgement or… or something else." She admitted quietly.

He didn't have a snappy retort to that. The better half of his life consisted of people treating him differently, watching him walk with bated breath so that they could whisper to their friends about how thin he was, or how pale he was, or about how little farm work someone of his stature could do. Most of that waned as he got older, but his mother's doting and gossip still kept some of it alive.

"I don't think it is as big of a deal as you might think it is. But you've got my word, I won't tell a soul nor spirit." He made an "x" shape over his chest. "I'm great at keeping secrets. I don't necessarily have anyone to share them with, after all."

"…Thank you." She stated quietly, staring down into her cup.

"Can I see your other scars?" He asked, placing his chin on his palm. "You said you were badly beaten. If you're telling the truth, you'd have more scars to show for it, wouldn't you?"

She looked displeased but began to unbutton the cuff of her sleeves anyways. Kliff took his elbow off the table and leaned back in surprise, letting out an uncomfortable laugh.

"Hey, sorry, I… I didn't mean to sound so cynical. You don't have to. I don't have any reason to believe that you'd lie about that." She rolled up her loose sleeves to her shoulders as Kliff quickly adverted his gaze, red in the face.

"Oh, for Mila's sake! Boys are absolutely ridiculous! They are arms, Kliff."

"I don't know if looking away is polite or not, shove off! I'm trying not to be rude," he huffed, though his bratty demeanor fell from his face like a mask at the sight of the long, jagged white mark running down her arm. Four wide marks ringed around her right upper arm, looking almost like the imprint of someone's strong grip. Her forearms were latticed with pink scars. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Most of these will fade. The apothecary makes me a salve that helps mend the skin, though at the cost of a pretty penny or fine glass. These little criss-cross ones are the result of wind burns from air spells. I'm sure one such as yourself is very familiar with the idea of wind magic."

Kliff reached out to grab her wrist and look closer, flicking his coral-eyed gaze up to her to see if she protested. She merely gave him a nod and offered her arm forward, feeling gooseflesh raise the hair on the back of her neck at the sensation of him drawing a cold fingertip over the lines. "It's gruesome. Spells like Excalibur leave little cuts that barely hurt, but they slice nearly to the bone. The pain is excruciating. …At least, so I've heard. It hits right down to the nerves."

"I can attest to that." She winced, noticing that her hands were shaking. "Just having them touched is uncomfortable even still. It's like the sensation of pins and needles."

"Sorry. What about that one?" He released her wrist and pointed to the one that ringed around her upper arm. "It's shiny, like a burn."

"The man who led me from the transport into the cavern grabbed me when I slipped on the rocks and nearly fell. He looked like a normal man, but when his skin touched mine, it burned like fire. This is the only one that still really hurts; it's always tender. It's why I wear these shirts with loose sleeves."

"They say that people who have been cursed with dark magic boil from the inside out. That their humanity burns away after their body burns up." Kliff recounted from the books that he had read. He puffed his cheeks before he let out a long breath. "It's hard to wrap my mind around the image of something like that happening to someone that I know."

"They happen all the time. Moreso now than ever." She uttered as she rolled her sleeves back down.

"If it's not too difficult for you to talk about, I'd like to know more. And even if it's too difficult to talk about what happened to you, maybe you could tell me more about the people who kept you."

"The Duma Faithful? …You do have an awfully morbid curiosity."

He quickly tried to articulate what he meant. "There are all sorts of forces out there that are a threat to us, and we hardly know anything! Doesn't it make sense that someone who experienced it firsthand should help make other people aware? The world is huge and just as dangerous as it is mysterious."

Rune only gave a single nod as she polished off the rest of her tea. "I see. Sometimes I forget how naïve someone of your age can be."

His brow jumped in annoyance. "Ugh, I hate when people say that. And you're only a couple of years older than me! That doesn't necessarily make you smarter."

"Smarter, maybe not. But wiser and more experienced, yes. To you, it makes plenty of sense to learn all that you can. But to me, I'd be more worried with what causing a person to relive that would make them feel like."

"That's such a flawed way of thinking. Putting how one person feels above the better interests of many is the mark of a bad leader. Sometimes you have to accept that the pursuit of knowledge isn't easy."

"And are you a leader? Do you have some grand ambition to put a stop to the things like this that happen in the world?"

Kliff blinked, a deep frown set on his face. "Ambition? I mean, I don't have plans to go and strike down every Duma Faithful or dark mage or bandit in the world, but I just wanted to know. Is that so wrong?"

She smiled. "No, of course it isn't. I have to say it's a bit exciting to see how differently our viewpoints are on the idea of self-preservation versus the greater good."

"You're the sort who would hesitate to swing your sword because you'd think about how your enemy's family feels, aren't you?" Kliff questioned.

Rune gave a shrug. "I'm not the sort of person to let my actions falter, but my heart is another story. I do often think about things like that. And you're the sort who thinks about how letting that enemy survive would be a risk to the future. Would you exterminate them even if they ask forgiveness?"

"I've never been in that situation, but I believe so."

"Your heart may change with experience," she said matter-of-factly.

He tsked. "I hate when you talk like you're an old woman."

She laughed, pressing her fingertips to her lips as if to stifle it. "You must hear yourself speak sometimes, Kliff. All of that wisdom coming out of such a cute little baby face is quite something. You have a lot of learning to do yet, though."

"There you go again. Sage Rune enlightens me even though I didn't ask for her observation," he quipped, rolling his eyes. "Really, though. If you are okay with it, I want to know more about the type of magic you were attacked by. And more about the people who took you."

"I think I still might need a bit more time." She stated as she started to rise from her chair. "There is no rush, is there? You're not running off to fight a war against evil."

"Fine," he lamented, puffing out his cheeks. "But you promised to let me borrow some of the books from your library and yet you still haven't even shown me where you live."

"I still need a bit more time for that as well," Rune laughed sheepishly.

Seconds, minutes, days, weeks would tick by, inching closer to destiny's eventual call to arms. But in the here and now, Rune felt herself no longer leap at shadows, no longer aching from phantom pain in her lungs at the sight of a soldier dressed in armor. And in time, she supposed, it would be alright to tell at least one person of her shame, and she supposed it might as well be this new and marvelous friend, snarky as he could be.

Time was a fickle creature, however, bringing with its passing the tidings of loss and twisting of knots.

* * *

**_Revised_****_: 01/19/2020_**


End file.
